


Lit Match and Gasoline

by carrybits



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Banter, Light Angst, M/M, Pining, Unrequited Love, and they were ROOMMATES, baz just really needs a hug, in a way ??, poor boy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-19
Updated: 2018-08-19
Packaged: 2019-06-29 13:01:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15729915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carrybits/pseuds/carrybits
Summary: “One day we’ll end in flames, and I’ll be the one with the lit match and gasoline.”





	Lit Match and Gasoline

**Author's Note:**

> I thought I gave up writting fics years ago, yet here I am writing about two oblivious idiots in love. Thank you Rainbow Rowell.
> 
> Also this is my first time ever posting on ao3 and I’m not used to the formatting at ALL so I’m sorry if there’s any mistakes !! 
> 
> Enjoy x

The way Simon’s blond hair curled around his ears and sprung in different directions was going to be the death of Baz. All he wanted to do was comb his fingers through the soft curls and twirl them around and around and around until Simon’s hair was a tangled mess. 

And the way Simon’s neck stretched as he slept always kept Baz up at night. He hated how Snow’s tawny skin was freckled everywhere. Even his neck. The little dots were begging Baz to bite them. 

Aleister Crowley, something was wrong with him. 

Normal blokes wanted to hold hands with their crushes or make them smile. Baz wanted to see if the contrast between his grey fingers and simon’s bright hair was as drastic as he’d always imagined it to be. He wanted to get his fingers stuck in Simon’s hair and ruin the golden velvet of it. He wanted to connect the dots on Simon’s neck with his tongue. He wanted everything. 

“You know, it’s creepy to stare at your roommate while they’re sleeping.” Simon mumbled sleepily. (His voice lacked the usual annoyance it held while talking to Baz. It made his heart ache.) 

_Well, fuck._

“Well, I’d argue that it’s even creepier to have a roommate who is obsessed with bloody vampires, Snow.” Baz responded after a few moments of silence. He really hoped that Simon wouldn’t remember any of this in the morning. 

Simon snorted. “‘Bloody vampires’. That has to be an - what’s the bloody word? Osmosis?” 

Baz rolled his eyes at his roommate’s stupidity. Only Simon would be sprawled across his bed, facing away from baz, laughing at an insult. 

“The word you’re looking for is ‘oxymoron’, you twat,” Baz sneered. 

In the silent room, Simon hummed in acknowledgment. “Yeah, that. But shhh, Baz, I’m too tired for big words.” 

Baz was about to retort with something snarky, but noticed Simon’s body turning to face him. 

“So,” Simon said after he was settled again. “Why _were_ you staring at me?” 

Baz remained silent and tried not to admire how flushed Simon’s face was. (He always did run hot at night.) His hair was slightly damp and stuck to his forehead. Baz tried not to notice how the moonlight pouring through the window that Simon always left open shined behind him and casted a halo around his hair, making it blaze in the light. Baz deliberately ignored how soft and vulnerable Simon looked laying there on his bed, shirtless and tangled in his thin cotton sheets. Baz longed to touch him (He couldn’t.) He knew that Simon’s eyes, though Baz couldn’t see them properly, were probably as unremarkably remarkable as ever. 

Living up to his title, the Chosen One was truly a work of art, but Baz could only admire from afar. 

Baz knew that, the next day, he would be mortified that he took so long to answer Simon’s question and checked him out instead; for now, he gazed at the beautiful boy next to him, so close yet so far, and tried to come up with an excuse for why his eyes couldn’t leave Simon. 

No matter how fast Simon made Baz’s heart beat, no matter how painful each minute in Simon’s presence was, no matter how terrible Baz felt after their fights, Baz would never be able to tell Simon about any of it. 

Never. 

“I was trying to figure out how someone like _you_ could possibly be the Chosen One. It’s completely pathetic,” Baz found himself saying. 

Simon glared at him. “Do you always have to be such a prat?” 

Baz forced down the lump in his throat, trying to keep his facade going. “What a ridiculous question. Even someone like Ebb could figure that out.” 

The air around the boys become tense, Simon’s magic quickly ignited the room. Baz could taste the smoke in his mouth. After years of sharing a room, the taste was comforting. 

“Snow,” Baz warned before Simon could go off. He knew he had gone too far with the Ebb comment. Simon adored the goatherd. He was protective of her. 

Simon was protective of anyone he cared for. 

“I’m fine. Just… fuck off.” Simon reeled in his magic as best as he could. Slowly the room lost its crackling energy and the hairs that stood up on Baz’s arms went down again. 

Eventually Simon went back to sleep, but Baz stayed awake. He admired Simon for a little while longer, this time with a deeper ache in his chest. Things would always be this way. Insults being thrown around, threats coming true, fists hitting skin. Sooner than Baz would like, they would have their last battle and it would all come to a crashing end. 

_One day we’ll end in flames, and I’ll be the one with the lit match and gasoline,_ thought Baz before finally falling asleep as well. 


End file.
